


Maybe we can live like the wild ones

by Inkfire



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Season/Series 02, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkfire/pseuds/Inkfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His face, his voice, his mannerisms are all brand new. Hint after hint, Rose explores and peels back the layers with all of her awareness, discovers him all over again. Keeps him—makes him—hers. Hands cling to hands, and they run on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe we can live like the wild ones

**Author's Note:**

> S2!Rose this time, though I'm a lot less fond of her during that season. But she's a girl of passion, and passion is always fun to explore. So here we go, little exploring piece—for the Nine-to-Ten transition, and Ten/Rose. Title comes from the song _Wild ones_ by Charlie Winston—really great fit, for the piece and for the ship (actually, for any companion/Doctor relationship I suppose). Enjoy!

And the running went on.

Different face, same man. It was creepy at first; she kept waiting to hear "Fantastic!", craving the scent of leather of his jacket and the rougher texture of his palm against hers. But it was the Doctor, all floppy hair and endless rambles. Always the Doctor, knowing her, taking her to see the universe— _caring_ about her. She hadn't lost him, she realized—she never would. Here they remained, the Doctor and Rose, a perfect fit.

The thrill was just as strong, as deep, as relentless. He made her laugh herself to tears and made things coil and heat up at the very pit of her stomach, aroused a fierce possessiveness she hadn't known was part of her character—not that intensely, at least. Those moments were hers: the saving worlds, and the messing about in the TARDIS, and the grabbing hands and hugging and never, ever letting go.

Sometimes she wanted him to say something—when he got all quiet, which was as unusual as it was meaningful. She wished he'd whisper it, or reach out and—but the moment passed. The warmth in his old eyes remained, their wild dream of a life continued. Together, they were mad wanderers to everybody else, sharing the universe like a precious sweet.

Wind in her hair, starlight in the sky, and the Doctor at her side.

_Forever_ , she thought.


End file.
